Grasping at Ashes
by The Dramatic Sneeze
Summary: An attack on the camp leaves the Fellowship shaken, and their elf injured. But when his wounds prove to be more than skin deep, Legolas soon finds himself a prisoner of his own mind and the task falls on Aragorn and company to set him free.
1. Chapter 1

_Warnings: Violence, Gore in future chapters, character injury, and mental angst. Mild spoilers for The Fellowship of the Ring. No like? No read. Simple as that, my friend._

_A/N: Set at a random point after the Fellowship's initial departure from Rivendell, but before Moria, as Gandalf is still alive. P.S.__This is not a slash story, just to clear that up. It could be considered a Darkfic I guess, but I don't think it is that bad. MAN UP, PEOPLE!_

_Disclaimer: None of it is mine... sigh..._

_Enjoy, Fellow Tolkienens... Tolkien...ers... Tolk... Tolkienites... Whatever._

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><p>Legolas Thranduilion was an elf.<p>

Elves, like Legolas, were strangely beautiful and beautifully strange creatures. It seemed that in everything they did, they did so with a grace no other creature could ever posess. Their wisdom and skills went unmatched due simply to the endless years of experience they were subjected to with the gift (Or, to some, curse) of immortality. Most had an air of contentment that followed them wherever they went, but such was not true for all, as some took their natural elven gifting as an excuse for arrogance. This particular elf happened to have the former, much to the relief of his traveling companions.

Legolas Thranduilion, the elf, was a proud member of the Fellowship of the Ring.

Yes, the Mirkwood prince could proudly say he was included amongst the defenders of Mr. Frodo Baggins and the precious cargo he carried. The trip thusfar had been long, eventful, and he'd loved every minute of it. At that time, the party had decided to rest for the evening, setting themselves in the narrow area between two tall cliffs as a natural defense in the case of an ambush. The elf stood rigid at the outer perimeter of the camp, muscles taut and eyes wandering the darkness for potential threats, as usual. Some (Such as the dwarf.) would say he was paranoid, but his long years as an elf had taught him that one could never be too careful.

Another thing about the elves, and part of the reason he was chosen to come along, were that their senses were considerably sharper than that of most creatures. The sound of a twig being snapped a mile away was as distinct to Legolas as if it were right next to him. His senses of sight and smell posessed similar lengths. This, while being extraordinarily useful, also tended to cause unneccesary stress, and so the prince only spoke on his feelings if he was almost certain it posed a threat.

Legolas Thranduilion, elf and member of the Fellowship, wished that the Fellowship had chosen a different place to camp.

The towering walls of the cliffs on either sides of them were overwhelming, a sense of claustrophobia closing in on the prince whom was unused to being enclosed in a space such as this. The sole source of light in the chasm emitted from the small campfire behind him, the light of which reached just beyond where Legolas had placed himself. He could dimly see the large, dark shadows that crawled along the cliff-face. They did not move threateningly, but he refused to take his eyes off of them.

Legolas Thranduilion, elf and member of the Fellowship, _really_ wished that the Fellowship had chosen a different place to camp.

Aragorn smiled as he listened to the conversation between his companions as they ate. Boromir and the hobbits were currently engrossed in a story Gimli was recalling from one of his many adventures in Moria, not bothering to contain his excitement of their decision to travel to the city. The wizard sat silently by the fire, listening amusedly as Aragorn was.

The ranger looked up from his food, noting the absence of his Elvish friend. His eyes scanned the campsite and found the slight shine of the bow strung on his back in the firelight at the edge of camp. Aragorn rose, slipping silently from the central conversation and venturing toward Legolas' rigid form. Aragorn knew all too well of his friend's aversion to caves and enclosed spaces. As a wood elf, he was out of his element when not in contact with the earth and the trees. Aragorn wanted to offer all the comfort he could upon the following days through Moria.

_"Aníral maded?"_ asked the ranger as he reached Legolas' side. The elf gave a small shake of his head. A person unused to the his mannerisims would have passed off his actions as mere caution, but Aragorn simply knew Legolas too well. _"Mani una lle elea?"_ (_'Do you want to eat?','What do you see?')_

Legolas shook his head, his pupils unwavering as he tilted his head toward Aragorn. Orange firelight flickered softly on his pale face as he spoke, "_Amin naa il sanda, nan'_ _nad no ennas."_ (_'I am unsure, but s__omething's out there.')_

Aragorn's mouth formed a thin line, his eyes turning to the darkness to attempt to see what had his normally composed friend uneased.

The fairer-haired of two's pointed ears perked suddenly, his body tensing as he tilted his head to one side. Aragorn instantly held up a silencing hand to the rest of the party, speaking loud and firm in a kingly voice he'd most certainly inherited, "Quiet."

The members froze, seeing Aragorn watching the elf closely and not commenting. They had learned better than to question the heightened senses of their Elvish friend at this point. Despite the knowledge that it was probably futile, each individual also silently tried for themselves to hear what the prince had.

A soft, animalistic gargle sound filled in the dense silence of the crevasse. Legolas' muscles remained coiled, eyes pointed slightly upward as he focused solely on his ears. The elf held out a hand as he crept forward, "Stay here."

Aragorn stepped forward in protest, "If there is danger, you should not be going alone."

Legolas looked briefly back at the human, "Better I take the risk than you, Estel. Besides, my eyes will see more in the dark."

Aragorn sighed, locking eyes with the young elf and hesitating before giving a curt nod. The remaining party all watched intently as their designated scout crept several paces foreword, his nimble Elvish feet barely making a sound as he walked. The hobbits huddled together, forming a subconscious perimeter around Frodo.

The overseeing party turned abruptly at the sound of rocks being loostened from the right wall, hitting the ground quietly nearby. Aragorn eyed the cliffs suspiciously, deeply hating the feeling of unease that ate away at him and the lack of ability to discover what was causing it.

Legolas stiffened at the movement, eyes darting to the single point on the crevasse wall where the rocks seemed to have been shaken from before moving to wander about the rocky black ledge. "Run." ordered the elf suddenly, drawing his bow and backing slowly away while keeping his eyes fixed on the wall.

A hiss emitted from a shadow in the blackness and Legolas whipped an arrow from the sheath on his back, firing at the dark mass faster than their eyes could follow. A loud screech filled the air as a large shadow which Aragorn had not seen before dropped abruptly to the ground. Several agressive wails followed, causing the party to cover their ears against the awful sound. Legolas turned around, urgency swimming through his blue irises. "Make haste!" he ordered, louder, "Run!"

The elf's widely uncharacteristic volume alone was enough to spur them all into movement, except Frodo who seemed to be frozen. The hobbit gasped as Aragorn shoved him hard toward Gandalf who placed Frodo in front of him, urging him forward and away from danger.

There was a terrified cry as something large lept onto Pippin from behind, burying its long, bony head into his tunic at an attempt to reach his flesh. Merry screamed his name in horror before Boromir lept into action and quickly kicked the thing off of him with a steel-clad foot for the rest of the party to see as it regained its footing.

The beast was fairly small compared to their usuals, about the size of a large dog, and carried the distinct look of a parasitic insect. Its mouth alone made up for about a third of its body, a set of terrifyingly sharp teeth nestled inside its long, narrow jaws. It's thick body sprouted three skinny legs on each side, along with a set of arms similar to that of a praying mantis. It was faded baige in color, probably meant for camoflauge, with hints of purple where the skin was too thin to conceal the color of it's insides. The creature's movements were fast and jerking, almost too much so for the naked eye to follow.

Arrow after arrow was released as more of the creatures began dropping to the ground from the crevasse walls. Each Fellowship member had also taken it upon themselves to unsheath their weapons, as the elf's arrows were currently the only thing holding them back.

Aragorn drove his sword through the skull of a beast, whirling the blade to the side as he withdrew it to strike yet another that lept at him from the side, its bowels spewing onto the floor with a foul splattering sound. The creatures were not hard to kill once an opening came, as their flesh was soft and thin, it was merely getting that opening which was proving difficult. Their movements were quick and abrupt like that of an insect, in one place one second and another the next.

Frodo grunted as he tried valiently to fend off the beasts with his small sword, striking down the creature he battled at present before yet another almost immediately took its place. The hobbit shreiked in surprise as the creature suddenly pounced on him, sending him falling backward with the beast's weight on top of him. Frodo struggled to keep it's jaws away as they so frantically tried to close around his throat.

With an abrupt screech of pain, the creature was forced off of him. Frodo quickly scrambled to his feet to see who his savior had been and found himself staring in disbelief at the elf of the Fellowship, white blades moving in almost a blur as it sliced through the skin and flesh of the beast that had practically incapitated Frodo. It was frightening, almost, to see one of the quietest and most lighthearted creatures he'd ever met battling with such fury.

The hobbit gasped, but could not work his tongue fast enough to shout a warning as yet another one of the creatures dropped to the ground directly behind Legolas. The archer turned at the movement but even his quick Elvish feet could not carry him fast enough. The beast lept to the side and snarled as it slammed into the elf's back with full force, knocking him to the ground and burying its teeth in his his skin. A thick spray of blood spattered onto the horrified face of the hobbit as the beast ripped mercilessly into muscle and flesh.

Aragorn witnessed the attack in alarm and without another thought, drew back and slammed the flat of his sword into the attacking creature's head. It screamed in pain, stumbling off of the elf where Aragorn then ran his blade through its skull. He bent low, grasping Legolas' arm and pulling his wounded form up quickly off the stone ground. The prince numbly snatched his dropped bow with bloodied fingers and willed his feet not to stumble, holding to Aragorn for guidance.

"Go!" beckoned Gandalf urgently, batting a creature away with his staff, "Get out of the chasm, I shall follow close behind!"

Aragorn looked hesitant at the idea of leaving the wizard behind, but was spurred into movement by a strangled cry of pain emitting from the prince he supported before said-prince's knees buckled beneath him. Aragorn swiftly scooped a hand beneath the elf's slender legs and lifted him into his arms which Legolas, had he been fully coherent, would have protested strongly about.

There was a loud _whooshing_ sound behind him, followed by a fierce symphony of pained screeching that caused Aragorn to wince at the sudden assault on his ears. Legolas jerked at the sound, his features contorting in pain and Aragorn knew it was the gift of enhanced Elvish hearing backfiring on him. The ranger did not bother to look behind him to see what kind of sorcery the wizard had unleashed on the creatures, all he knew was that the chasm was now silent besides their own footsteps and harsh breathing.

Aragorn sighed in relief as the cliffs on either side of them ended abruptly, bringing them all to a stop. The hobbits heaved for breath, still shaken from the sudden attack.

Frodo looked up worriedly, "Gandalf?"

At that moment the wizard strode out of the chasm, staff glowing dimly to illuminate his path.

Pippin looked up from the ground, curiosity overriding his attempt to catch his breath, "What did you do?"

The wizard shook his head, "They are gone, we needn't worry about it anymore." Gandalf's words hald no room for question. "I am afraid it is too open here for us to rest, let us venture into the forest and set up a new camp there."

Aragorn shifted the elf's deadweight in his arms, hefting him over his shoulder in fear that his sharp gauntlet's might further aggrivate the wound on his back. "I must ensure Legolas' wounds are not too severe. It will not take me long."

Frodo tensed at this, recalling the events that had caused the archer's injury. Blue eyes that shone something like shock, or perhaps guilt, turned slowly to study Sam's lips moving incoherently. The hobbit shook his head slightly in realization that the gardner was speaking to him.

"Are you alright, Mr. Frodo? You look rather pale..." observed the gardner, "And you have blood on your face!"

Frodo numbly reached a hand to his cheek, pulling it away to find his fingertips sticky with blood that he immediately knew was not his own. He shakily rubbed the sleeve of his tunic on his face, determined to clean himself of the elf's blood which he knew was spilled only to spare him injury. He shook his head to calm the Gardner, "I am alright, the blood is not mine." Sam relaxed, though the suspicious glint in his eyes faltered only slightly.

"Come, hobbits." called Gandalf, "We will pause for a respite when we reach the treeline. We are too vulnerable here."

As they trod toward the forest, the elf over Aragorn's shoulder began to stir, emitting a soft groan. His speech was sluggish as he gathered his bearings, "Estel... Why it is I can see naught but your backside?"

The ranger smirked, "I know I am desirable, _mellon_-_nîn, _but after all this time I must say I was unaware of your true feelings."

Legolas snorted, "Only in your dreams, Estel." Aragorn chuckled softly as he ajusted his hold on the Elf, who squirmed in his arms, "I'd appreciate if I could return to my feet now, please."

Aragorn complied, gently setting the elf down, but not relinquishing his hold on Legolas' shoulder in fear he would stumble. The archer waved him off and took a few shuddering steps before his pace evened out to only a slight limp. Aragorn winced as he caught a glimpse of the wound beneath his shredded tunic as he walked ahead, noticing how delicately the elf's steps were taken.

Upon reaching the treeline, Aragorn immediately ordered the prince to sit beneath the dim light of Gandalf's staff and demanded he remove his tunic. Legolas grudgingly complied, wincing as he peeled the fabric which had mingled with blood that had dried and stuck to his skin. Aragorn sucked in a breath as the tunic was removed and he caught the full sight of the injury.

The wound consisted of several horrid-looking gashes that streaked across his back, slicing right into the muscle and Aragorn winced as he saw small glints of white where his spine was exposed. The worst part of the cuts gaped on his left shoulder blade and got narrower and shallower as they ran down his back, halting just above his right hip. The cuts were deep and the skin around the long welts was white and swollen, angry red lines branching out and extending over the untouched skin.

"How do you feel?" inquired Aragorn, not wanting to alert Legolas to the extent of his injury and worry the archer.

Legolas grimaced and struggled to keep his voice steady. "I feel fine.". Aragorn rolled his eyes and stole another glance at the wound as the elf arched slightly in pain.

Aragorn chuckled, but the laugh held little humor. "You were never a good liar_._"

Legolas snorted weakly, "'m better then you." The elf emitted labored breath as Aragorn pressed a cloth to the wound, "Truthfully, 's already starting to numb."

Aragorn nodded hesitantly in acceptance of the answer. "There was an urgency in your eyes back there I had not seen in a long time," the Ranger lowered his voice, "Tell me, what of those creatures disturbed you so much?"

Legolas remained silent for a moment, as if unsure whether to open his heart to the ranger, though he had done it before. It was simply against his nature to discuss his emotions with others. The elf eventually sighed, however, making his decision. "I was disturbed simply because I had no knowledge of what they were or what they were capable of." Legolas lowered his head, "I was wrong to react in that way."

Aragorn nodded and did not ask for further explaination, for he understood completely. As an immortal, the elf had seen his fair share of creatures in his lifetime. In fact, there were few in existance which he had not come across at some point in his travels. It was an extremely rare occurance when he was faced with something he was not at least slightly familier with, and with lack of knowledge came weakness. Weakness, to Legolas, was not an option.

Aragorn knit his brows together as he examined the parted flesh, "The wound is bleeding less than I'd anticipated." vocalized the Ranger in awe, "I don't think I've ever seen Elvish healing put to work this fast."

Legolas sighed, "Good, we cannot delay merely because I've been-" he grunted quietly as Aragorn began to tightly wrap the wound, "-nipped by a parasite."

Aragorn smiled, "We are lucky this is just a flesh wound, a bit further and there could have been serious damage to your spine. Now, let us venture into the forest and set up camp. Will you be able to walk? I'd say it'll be another three or four leagues before we can stop to set up camp again."

Legolas waved him off, "-m fine, Estel. T'is almost completely numb now. As you said, 's merely a scratch."

Aragorn rolled his eyes as he fastened the bandage around the elf's torso, '_I definately did not say that.' _he thought silently.

The journey through the forest was peaceful, much more so than the chasm had been. The trees were plentiful but there was little underbrush to pick through, so their progress was made quickly. Quiet conversation travelled through the company, their topics ranging from stories of their homelands to the best way to roast a duck. Aragorn had even involved himself in a bit of the discussion, but other than that he kept a close eye on their surroundings, knowing their usual lookout would not be at his full capabilities.

They had been traveling for about an hour Aragorn speculated, by the movement of the moon, when a soft whisper made him question if perhaps his ears were faulty or the journey was just beginning to get to him. The Ranger waved it off and and continued to stride forward when the sound was emitted once more, a bit louder and clear to Aragorn's ears.

"_Estel..."_

The ranger turned, sure that he'd heard correctly this time and his eyes instantly bugged at the sight of the young elf trailing wearily behind the group. One by one, the company turned to find the source of Aragorn's bewilderment, and were each subjected to the same as they took in the sight before them.

Half lidded azure eyes seeped twin tears of blood that painted stark crimson trails on his ashen cheeks. His upper lip was stained red from the liquid which streamed also from his nose. Aragorn could scarcely believe his friend was still standing, had it not been for that, he may have believed the archer dead solely from the paleness of his skin and dark circles beneath his eyes. A drop of blood slithered quickly through his lips as he parted them to speak, his words badly slurred. "I do not... feelsowell..."

Aragorn heard the pained words of his friend and watched, dumbfounded, as he swayed dangerously on his feet, gaining his wits just in time to catch Legolas before he toppled completely.

Legolas was vaguely aware of concerned face of the ranger that hovered above him, but he could do nothing to halt the progress of the darkness that tugged on his consciousness. His lips parted as if to speak, then closed as what was left of his strength seeped quickly from his body and he fell limp in Aragorn's arms.

Shadow quickly closed in on his vision and the elf knew no more than darkness.

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><p><em>AN: AHH CLICHE OVERUSED ENDING TIME! So, whachya think? For 4000 words, man, you'd better like it. (Just kidding, you're allowed to not like it.) The first chapter is always the hardest, in my not-so-humble opinion, and I'm not very confident with this one, so opinions and constructive criticism is appreciated. Not a whole lot of contribution from the rest of the group in this chapter, but I promise you will here more from the rest of the Fellowship soon. _

_Also, just a warning, I plan to be very mean to Leggy in this fic... what can I say? It's what I do. I also apologize for any OOC-ness that may be present, I'm a LOTR noob for the most part and am still trying to weed it out._

_See that little button below? Yup, right... Nope, to your left... Your other left... Up a little... Ye-, nope, down a little. RIGHT THERE, STOP. Yeah, that is the review button. It's the button that turns you into my new best friend._


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas could not suppress the wide grin that had spread across his face at the sight of his father's kingdom. Green, golden and beautiful, as it had always been. Almost excessively so. The colors of the forest shone with a vibrancy which astounded him. This, accompanied with the clear and familiar sounds of the forest created an atmosphere of utmost peace and contentment for the prince. The air was particularly dense at the time, which was not unusual for any forest, but the elf could practically feel it weighing his body down. This small onus did little to dampen his spirits, however.

Mirkwood's dark reputation had played little to no part in the forming of his opinion on the forest, except when he was faced with the cause of it, which he'd found occurred rather frequently. However, the creatures that lurked about the trees had been effectively kept at bay by the great warriors and archers of his father's army. In fact, most of the instances that Legolas had come across one of these beasts were on his ventures far outside the perimeter of the main dwelling-place. Nonetheless, he loved his home dearly and bade silent greetings to familiar trees as he trod forward.

The gleeful cries of his kin as they welcomed their prince home warmed his heart as he made his way through the trees. It had been too long since his feet had been set upon the earth here, and he enjoyed the familiarity that was met with each step. Elflings pranced cheerfully about the trees, their laughter light and carefree. Legolas could feel his burdens being lifted off his shoulders at the sights and sounds of his home but with the removal of this weight came a new feeling, something that made him uneasy. In his excitement, this was ignored.

Weaving silently through the trees, he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a small figure leaning against a mossy trunk a few strides away, a crown crafted of fresh white flowers was wound around her small, golden head. The elfling turned at his presence and Legolas' breath hitched as azure eyes met shining green. A smile of pure alleviation immediately spread across her pale, round face.

"Ada!" exclaimed the elfling in excitement. Bare feet made hardly a sound as she sprung to her father and leapt into his arms. Legolas laughed musically as he hugged the tiny being close to his chest, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"Ada, I missed you! I am so glad you are home!" cried the elfling happily, sitting back in her father's arms to look into his eyes. Legolas smiled.

"I missed you too, my heart. So much." the prince smiled as he tucked a stray lock of golden hair behind his daughter's ear. Legolas looked over the young she-elf and furrowed his brows, "By the Valar, have you grown?"

Young eyes brightened, "Yes! Well, I think so. Daer-adar says elves grow very slow. He says I am only of four years to a human! Isn't that silly, ada? Nana tells me I am getting taller every day! I like what Nana says better."

Legolas laughed, "Silly, indeed. Every time I see you you seem to have sprouted another inch!" exclaimed Legolas gleefully, earning a giggle from the smaller elf. "And where is Naneth, dilthen lass nîn?"

The elfling wriggled excitedly out of Legolas' arms, tugging on the sleeve of his tunic as her feet touched the ground, "Come, ada! I will show you!"

It was not a long trek as Legolas was taken in the direction the she-elf supposedly resided in. His heart pounded in anticipation, which he silently mulled at the oddity of. Three-hundred years of marriage and yet the Imladrian could still do these things like that to him. Silently he wondered if he still had the same charms to the she-elf as he once did.

The she-elf turned and her breath hitched as her eyes met Legolas', a smile spreading quickly across her pale face. In two quick strides he was across the room and caught his wife in a deep embrace, locking his lips passionately with hers. The young elfling scrunched her nose at the sight, and occupied herself by playing with the hem of her dress.

The prince and she-elf broke apart for breath, each resting their forehead gently against the other's. "I missed you." spoke the female softly, placing a small hand on his chest, "For a while I feared you would not return."

"My apologies for worrying you, melamin, it was not my intention." replied Legolas.

The she-elf's eyes narrowed playfully, "Are you certain? There are times when I truly believe you trying to scare me to an early ship to Valinor."

The prince laughed softly, "It seems I simply cannot resist myself at times."

"Ti tállbe Orch." (Go kiss an orc)

Legolas smirked, tilting her chin up so his lips brushed hers as he spoke, "I'd rather kiss you." Her breath hitched and his grin widened as he thought to himself, 'Aye, I've still got it.'

"Le melon." she said softly, tilting her head to meet his lips.

A disgusted snort emitted suddenly from above them, drawing both the elves eyes to their daughter whom sat perched atop a branch above them. Musical laughter emitted from both the parents and Legolas did not believe he'd ever found himself more content.

"Make haste, mellon. His highness eagerly awaits you."

It had been too long since he'd set foot in the halls of his father, and Legolas could honestly say it never lost it's initial awe. Though small compared to the royal facilities of men, it was still just as splendid. Besides the point, he felt one could never truly feel comfortable in excessive, roaring halls in which one's footsteps echoed infinitely.

"You've been dearly missed, ion-nin." Thranduil smiled as he pulled away from the embrace with his son, "There had been word that the mission had gone sour and some of our kin would not return. I feared you would be one of them. Thank the Valar this was not so."

"Ada, I assure you, I am alive and well." Legolas smiled, "How fares Mirkwood in my absense?"

"Fate has been in our good fortune as of late, albeit it has been a bit quiet since your departure." Thranduil smiled in jest, "I imagine this will change once you've had your rest."

Legolas gasped in feigned horror, "Could you expect any less of me, adar?"

Thranduil chuckled, "My apologies. You have dutifully filled these trees with sound since your days as an elfling, when the howling of angry nursemaids was a regularity amongst us. Forgive me, ion-nin, for doubting your skill."

The king's eyes turned suddenly to something behind Legolas, "Valandil!" he cried. Legolas turned to see the servant appear obediently. "Let us prepare a celebration, for Mirkwood's Prince has returned!"

Legolas turned to face his father, shaking his head. "No, adar, that is unnecessary-"

"Nonsense," smiled the King, clasping a hand on Legolas' shoulder, "The kingdom shall rejoice this eve at the news of your return. Your brothers will be excited to see you again."

Legolas brows furrowed, "Brothers, adar?"

The king frowned, "You must be weary. Both Daeron and Arminas reside safely in their quarters and will be ecstatic once they learn of your arrival." he replied, "Retreat to your chambers and rest a bit and then we may celebrate."

Legolas hesitated briefly, but nodded.

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><p>Aragorn was a composed man, for the most part. It was something he prided himself on. He was not someone easily thrown and it was that which had helped earn him the role of the Fellowship's unofficial leader. (Besides Gandalf, who was, in fact, the official leader.) Some might call it stubbornness, but he preferred to think of it merely as a strong will. There were very few things which Aragorn was unprepared for, at least mentally if not also physically.<p>

But he could not escape the admittance that this was one of those things, and he was ashamed.

Aragorn frowned as he picked up a cloth and wiped the newest trail of blood that slithered out of the prince's nose. Legolas currently lay motionless on his stomach on Aragorn's bedroll, as the ranger did not want to risk further aggravating the wound on his back.

The ranger's heart skipped a beat as the ashen face of Legolas, previously tensed in pain, relaxed considerably and for a moment Aragorn truly feared his friend was dying. Placing two anxiously torpid fingers on his friend's neck, he let out a heavy breath of relief at the steady drumming of life that pulsed beneath his skin.

Aragorn spoke softly so as only Legolas, had he been coherent, would hear. "You do not dare scare me like that again..."

"Strider?" piped a quiet voice from the fire. Aragorn turned to face the curious eyes of the Fellowship's gardner, "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but what exactly is wrong with Mr. Legolas? I did not think his wound was that bad."

Aragorn sighed and shook his head. "I know not what, exactly, Samwise. You are correct, his injury did not bleed nearly enough to cause him to fall due to blood-loss, and it is too soon for infection to set in. The only other reason I could think of is if he'd had some other hidden injury or illness he'd neglected to tell me about." Aragorn paused, looking to the elf as he spoke, "This is not unheard of for him, but he would not do so if he knew it could affect the mission."

Gandalf turned, "I believe I can offer a bit of an explanation, if my hypothesis is correct." the company turned to the wizard in interest, "I know not of what those creatures were, but I believe I could shed some knowledge on the sleep that Legolas has fallen into." he explained, gazing at the somber elf.

Aragorn turned to the wizard with furrowed brows, "Is he not simply unconscious due to the wound?" he inquired, "Surely those were not creatures of enchantment."

Gandalf shook his head, "There is an air about him, something that tells me this is more than an average slumber. I agree that those beasts were of unnatural origin, in fact, perhaps it is nature which is working against us."

Aragorn straightened and silently urged the wizard to continue.

"See that, there?" said Gandalf, pointing to the elf's closed eyes, "How his eyes jerk about under the lid? His mind is not as dormant as his body."

Aragorn's brows furrowed, "Strange. Why is this, Gandalf?"

The wizard sat back, "I am not exactly sure. This is not something I have seen much of, though I know of others who have."

Pippin straightened in optimism, "Can we not simply wake him and ask what is wrong?"

"It would be futile, dear Took." replied the wizard, "Look at him, a tree falling atop him would not cause him to awaken."

Boromir gave the deflated hobbit a light pat on the back in comfort at the altercation of his idea. Pippin shot him a sad half-smile in gratitude.

The ring-bearer frowned solemnly, "And if we cannot awaken him?"

The wizard's face grew grim, "I know naught of what is going on within his mind," Gandalf sighed, "But from a natural point of view, I believe it is reasonable to speculate that there is a venom working feverishly in his veins as he lies dormant. If not that, than simply lack of nourishment."

Merry looked horrified, "So he will starve to death?"

"This is merely hypothesis on my part, but even elves need to eat and drink at some point. I imagine that this poison is meant to kill the prey without too much effort on those creature's part and that they would probably return to feed on the remains at that point. Luckily, we evaded that stage of the process."

Aragorn winced at the use of the word prey to describe his friend beside him, "I'd hardly call this new development lucky." snapped the ranger softly, but the wizard did not retort, knowing his uncharacteristic anger was emitted only out of concern for his friend.

Gandalf sighed, "I am afraid we cannot stay here long, however. We must remember that the quest is our priority."

Sam's face fell, "But what about Mr. Legolas?"

A look of sadness passed over the wizard's face, "Legolas fully knew that his life may have been forfeit had he accompanied us on the quest. He understood the sacrifices that he may have had to make and that he was fighting for something greater than himself."

Aragorn spoke edgily, "You speak of him as if he has already passed."

Gandalf sighed, "You know that was not my meaning, son of Arathorn. I have known Legolas for many years and seeing him in this state is painful to myself as well. I ask only of you to remember our priority. It is what he would have wanted." he continued at Aragorn's sharp glare, "Had he been coherent."

The ranger looked over the motionless elf that lay beside him. His ashen face would have caused Aragorn to believe him dead had it not been for the slight rise and fall of his chest. He sighed, "We can spare a day or so, we are ahead of scheduale anyway. Perhaps he will have recovered somewhat by then."

Gandalf sighed sadly, "Aragorn-"

"It would be contradictory to our cause if we let him die without giving him a chance." inturrupted the ranger in determination.

The Wizard sighed, then nodded solemnly. "Very well. I imagine we could remain here for no more than three nights, as this is not an area often crossed." he said, "After that, however, I'm afraid we must depart for the sake of the quest. Let us hope his Elvish healing skills are quickly being put to work."

The company silently accepted the decision, "So what do we do in the meantime?" inquired Pippin.

Gandalf turned, "We wait."


	3. Chapter 3

Hobbits were not the adventures type, and Samwise Gamgee had been essentially brainwashed into this idea at the time Gandalf had recruited him. (Much against his will, initially.) By this time, Sam could see why his former lifestyle was pitied by those who didn't envy it. Personally, the gardener could not possibly deny the newfound ecstasy of adrenalin when it ran through his veins in the midst of battle. Slaying orcs was a dirty job, but damn if it wasn't satisfying!

However, when the Fellowship wasn't off beheading the enemy or travelling, they were camping. With camping, came a seemingly obscene amount of down time in which the members had to find ways to entertain themselves. Usually, this came through hushed, yet involved conversations around the fire, often about their former lives, before the quest of the Ring had been initiated.

They had managed, despite the unfortunate circumstances, to make quiet conversation by the fire during this particular occasion. Words were strained as none of them wanted to admit the blanket of grief that hovered over the Fellowship, deriving from its mere existence despite the fact that the injured party still lived.

A soft whimper emitted from an isolated corner of the camp as the archer stirred on his bedroll. Sam had barely blinked before Aragorn was by the elf's side checking bandages and whispering soothing words of comfort until Legolas stilled once again. _"_Peace_, mellon-nîn." _The ranger sighed and sat back, studying the ashen face of his friend.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but they'd never said anything about hobbits. "Excuse me, Strider, sir?"

Aragorn turned his head, blinking back the weariness that relentlessly pulled his eyelids southward, "Yes, Sam?"

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what does it mean, that word you keep using with Legolas?" inquired the Gardner, furrowing bushy brows. "_Melloneren..." _

The ranger's lips twitched upwards, "_Mellon-nîn._ It means _'my friend_' in Elvish."

Sam smiled, "May I use it?"

"Of coarse, Sam."

"A beautiful language, indeed." awed Gandalf, "One of the many glittering jewels of Elvish culture."

Gimli snorted, "Sparkly as their language may be, Dwarven culture is much heftier. I'll bet twinkle-toes over there would keel over after a single pint."

"But pints are huge!" exclaimed Pippin, "I'd barely made it through my last before I began seeing two Merry's!"

Aragorn smiled, listening silently as the party instantly leapt at the chance to partake of an adequate conversation that did not involve grief or awkwardness. Satisfied of the current morale, he turned eyes to the Gondorian, who sat silently at the edge of camp.

Aragorn rose from his position to take up a new one at Boromir's side where they both aimlessly observed their companions. It was the ranger who spoke first, "Silence does not suit you, my friend."

"This new development disturbs me," sighed Boromir, "-nor does it bode well for the mission."

"With what purpose does a Steward of Gondor have to grieve over a wounded elf?"

"I grieve not over the elf, and I do not intend to offend." said the Gondorian, "-however, I do grieve at the current status of our mission. The fate of Middle-Earth rests in our hands, and yet we find them tied by our own misfortune. I do not think remaining inert is our best coarse of action."

Aragorn parted his lips and sucked in a breath of response, but a shrill voice abruptly ended their conversation. "But its true!" cried Pip, straightening in his seat as he waved his arms exasperatedly. "I learned it from Frodo who learned it from Bilbo!"

Boromir sent a brief, stolid glance to the ranger, and his eyes turned downward back to the gleaming edge of his sword. Aragorn sighed quietly, and turned away. Perhaps it was, in fact, better when the other human remained as silent as he had.

Near the fire, the dwarf groaned, "Never did I think to find myself thrust into an argument over Elvish culture." he sighed, "Perhaps I have been above-ground too long."

"Oh, hush, Gimli." scolded Pippin. The ranger raised his brows and smirked at the boldness of the young hobbit. "I'm sure Aragorn can help us!"

"With what, Pippin?"

"Aren't elves immortal?"

"Yes, Pippin."

The hobbit's expression brightened as he turned to Gimli in triumph, "See? I told you! Didn't I tell you?"

The dwarf rolled his eyes.

"I have a thought, why do you worry over him so much if he cannot die?" piped Boromir.

Aragorn's mouth formed a thin line, "You misunderstand. Elves are immortal in that old age does not take them as quickly as it would you or I. But however tough, they are not invincible and can still be struck down by sharp-enough a sword. They just prove to be much more difficult to kill than say a human or a dwarf." Aragorn's lips twitched upward in the shadow of a smile and his eyes seemed to travel somewhere distant, "They are rather stubborn creatures."

The hobbits slumped slightly at the lamentable explanation, but a continuing fascination glowed about them. It was Sam who vocalized the question that ran through each of their minds, as hobbits are naturally curious creatures.

"So, how old is Mr. Legolas than?"

Aragorn smirked, "I'm not sure it's my place to say."

"Why not?" cried Merry, "We won't say a word to him, honest! He'll never know you said anything!"

"Somehow I doubt that." Aragorn chuckled softly before pausing in thought, "Perhaps a century or two shy of two-thousand. I do not know the specific dates, I'm not sure he does either."

The hobbit's jaws dropped in shock, even Gimli turned briefly to the ranger in surprise.

Pippin shook his head, "Hold on a moment, he does not know his own age?" the hobbit looked appalled, "Than... does he know when his birthday is?"

"Elves do not oft celebrate birthdays." Aragorn corrected, "In Rivendell we celebrate at century marks, never per-year. I am unsure whether Mirkwood shares the same traditions, he seemed surprised when I told him of our per-century tradition, though he was not completely unfamiliar. I seem to recall Thranduil once telling me they celebrated at the millennia..."

The jaws of the Hobbits dropped straight to the ground. Even Frodo, who remained curled silently by the fire, turned in shock.

The Gardner looked at the elf in awe, "Two-thousand years..." Sam leaned forward in interest, eyes turning to Aragorn "So, if Mr. Legolas were a mortal, how old do you reckon he'd be?"

Aragorn paused a moment, "I'd estimate somewhere in his very early twenties."

Eyes widened, "We have been entrusting our lives to a child!" exclaimed Gimli.

Aragorn smiled, "In body, perhaps, Master Dwarf, but hardly in spirit." He turned his eyes to the elf's solemn face with a renewed weight on his heart, "His elf eyes have seen more than we should ever hope to, of good and of evil."

The mood faltered with Aragorn's statement. It was, unsurprisingly, Pippin who broke the newest consecutive silence. "You grew up with him, didn't you?"

The ranger nodded affirmative, "He is like a brother to me."

Sam peeked up from his pot, "Are there any true brothers or sisters to you? By blood?" the hobbit trailed off and blushed.

Aragorn smiled, "Elrond had a pair of twin sons, who were also very much like brothers to me." a pause, "I also found myself rather close to the other Mirkwood princes. None by blood, though."

"The elf is not an only?" inquired Boromir curiously, "I'm afraid I always assumed."

Aragorn's face grew grim."Aye, he'd had two with our friend here being the youngest."

Merry scrunched his nose in confusion, "Had?"

"Aye, there is now only one."

"Would you mind very much telling us what happened?" ventured an arguably shorter hobbit, "I'm sure it was an exciting death, at least."

Merry gaped, "Pip!"

"I'm afraid I'd rather not." replied Aragorn, the hobbit slumped, "I have had my time for grieving, but in all respects to Legolas and his family I do not feel comfortable telling this tale without his knowledge and permission. With the longevity of their lives, ten years is but a blink of the eye. The pain is still very fresh to them."

Brief acceptances and apologies were made before the hobbit turned to spark new conversation with the group. Thankful that the cousins had taken it upon themselves to keep the company occupied, Aragorn turned back to the somber face of the elf and winced at the sight of his wounds peeking out beyond the bandages.

The warm presence of Gandalf instantly made itself known behind the ranger, "You must get some rest."

Too weary to carry protest, Aragorn simply nodded and lay his head on a discarded knapsack and subconsciously covered the elf's cold hand with his own. No sooner than he'd closed his eyes had he fallen into slumber with the laces of a bitter memory, one which he'd rather soon forget, but would never allow himself to do.

Not while he continued to breathe.

* * *

><p><em>To say Aragorn had been appalled by what he saw would have been a slight understatement. It was not the bruises that covered the once flawless skin of the princes, nor was it the blood that crusted their garb. These things were belittled next to the largest and most horrid change of all.<em>

_Once-pristine blond hair- the symbol of Elvish individuality- had been cut down to only the last inch or so. The elves looked uncomfortable, despite valiant attempts to mask it, shoulders raised slightly at the odd sensation of the breeze against their necks. Aragorn watched the smirking Uruk-Hai that followed the brothers back, a handful of golden hair cascading out of his meaty fingers and dragging across the floor, the telltale braid Legolas often wore amongst the locks. The human prisoner narrowed his eyes._

_"You belong to us, now, Elvish scum." spat the Uruk, carelessly throwing the locks into a dirty puddle, "You won't need this anymore."_

* * *

><p>"Gandalf," called Frodo softly, breaking away from the main conversation of the camp. The wizard appeared by his side seemingly out of nowhere, kneeling by the hobbit. Frodo turned eyes to the dormant elf sadly, "Is there truly nothing we can do?"<p>

The wizard sighed, "Not yet, I'm afraid. But if I may ask, Mr. Baggins, what concerns you so over the fate of our Elvish friend? You have a good heart, that much is true, but you seem particularly upset over this turn of events."

Frodo kept his eyes downcast, "He was injured saving me. One of those creatures was trying to get me and he pushed it off of me a-and it got him instead."

Gandalf nodded in understanding, laying a comforting hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "We will do all we can to bring him back to good health."

Frodo looked up at the wizard, "And if we cannot?" at the silence Frodo again turned down his eyes, "I never thought I would be the cause of someone's death, Gandalf."

The wizard frowned, "T'is not you, Frodo, for you are bound to this quest just as we all are. Sacrifices are inevitable and must be made for the sake of the mission."

"For Middle-Earth, maybe." the hobbit sighed, "Not for me."

* * *

><p><em>Aragorn winced as the overseer violently jerked the chain that bound Daeron's wrists. The grimace that flashed across his fair Elvish features did not go unnoticed by the sadistic orc, who smirked in satisfaction.<em>

_"Alright, knife-ears, time to put some use to ya's. I hear your kind are quite durable." snorted Zod. A loud clang of metal sounded as the brothers were chained to the huge device, causing the captives to wince. Neither elf moved a muscle, and instead kept eyes trained on the yoke in front of them. Ugglod snarled and moved in front Legolas, sticking his nose in the face of the much smaller being._

_"Hear me, scum? I said move!" he ordered angrily. The elf did not even twitch. An internal smile spread through Aragorn at the protest, but it disappeared fast as the overseer raised his whip into the air. The crack that sounded overwhelmed the Imladrian's senses as he saw his elfish friend recoil, expecting the firey sting of the cat o' nine to explode upon his exposed back._

_Legolas opened his eyes at the strange absence of pain at his back and realized then, with shame, that it had only been a warning. Embarrassed, but unwilling to be put through another whipping session, he drew back and suddenly forward as he leaned all of his weight onto the yolk in front of him. Aragorn could see the muscles in his friend's arms and torsos straining beyond any amount that could be healthy._

_"Lul gijak-shi." spat Ugglod. (Pussy.)_

_Zod smirked, "Amal shufar, at rrug." (When there's a whip, there's a way.)_

_Aragorn sighed in relief as the wheel began to turn slowly. He'd have not been willing to find out what have happened had the elves been unable to move it._

_"Faster!" sneered Ugglod. The elves complied, knowing the time for rebellion was not now. They did not, however, take notice to the deep pothole which had been the product of a large displaced rock directly in the orbital path of the yoke. Inevitably, a booted Elvish foot landed in the hole and rolled with a cry of surprise from it's owner. _

_Legolas let out a gasp and grasped his brother's arm in aid to his balance, but was immediately rewarded with a brutal backhand from Ugglod which sent him sprawling backwards. The Uruk-Hai laughed, raising the whip into the air and this time bringing it down on Arminas' newly-exposed back as if he could not stand the sight of the unmarked flesh. The orc chuckled and raised the whip once again. And again. And again._

_The eldest of the Mirkwood princes watched the scene with wide eyes which were quickly coming alive with a fiery rage. Daeron surged forward, ignorant of the weight holding him back, and lept upon the back of Ugglod. A few solid punches were landed before he was pulled back by the chains once more. Blood streamed from the orc's nose, who seethed as he laid eyes on the heavily breathing elf. Ugglod rose abruptly to his feet and rushed the elf with a blind, raging fury._

_The blows that were reined down on Daeron seemed to reverbarate through the ground, just as the pained cries which pierced clearly through the air. The elf could only attempt to shield his head with his arms as the attacks bore down on him as relentlessly as the turbulent winds of a hurricane._

_Arminas threw out every hateful obscenity in his vocabulary, but his shouts soon turned to pleas of arrest. The sadistic creature paid no heed, if anything he was fed by the desperation. Legolas remained silent through the entire ordeal, and instead focused entirely on freeing himself of his bonds to aid his brother. The cries that emitted from Daeron fueled the adrenalin in his body which was working to lengths previously-unreached, as he could feel the links of the chain straining under his force._

_Zod laid a solid punch on the back of Ugglod's head, causing the lesser beast to fall roughly into the dirt, "Control yourself, you fool! It cannot do work if it is unable to move!"_

_The bloody elf coughed twice, and fell limp as his eyes went empty._

_"Look at that, you've gone and killed him!"_

_Both remaining elves seemed to be completely unaware of the conversation about taking place and instead stared only at their brother laying motionless on the ground, faces pale and eyes wide. Each captive individual desperately held back tears at the sight of their eldest, and the growing puddle of blood beneath him._

Legolas' eyes flew open, his chest heaving as he frantically gulped in as much air as his lungs would allow. Azure orbs darted frenetically about, attempting to pierce through the darkness as the sounds and smells of the forest made themselves known. A cool, very cool, hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him gently down to rest on his back once again.

"Is everything alright?" a soft, half-slumbered voice piped from beside him.

The prince sighed, "Nightmare."

"Strange. Must have been something in the food."

Legolas blearily chose to conceal the fact that he hadn't dared to touch the food at the feast several hours before. The mere thought made his stomach churn. Odd, for he could scarcely remember the last time he'd eaten.

Dispite the fact he'd clearly seen both his brothers at said feast, the urge to check on them post-nightmare was making itself ever prominent. A foolish thing, of coarse he'd seen them. At least, he thought he had. Perhaps not so clearly, but he definately saw them, right? Perhaps this strange fuzziness was somehow related to the absense of his appetite. It was times like these he'd wished his body were a bit more prone to illness, for it was a feeling completely foreign to him.

A slender arm snaked it's way suddenly across his chest and a frigid chill swept through the archer's body at the contact. No sooner had the feeling arrived that it had departed and was replaced with the favorable sensation of its unusually algid owner nestling against him.

The Valar could hold his ailment for the night, he'd deal with it in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

* * *

><p>Daylight had been more or less uneventful among the conscious Fellowship. The sole source of excitement came only from straggling orcs wandering about. Needless to say, they had been properly disposed of by Boromir and Gimli, the latter of which later boasting about his body count shortly after.<p>

The dwarf didn't dare mention how boring the game had become with only one contender.

The rest of the group set to busying themselves with chores and gathering. It was, dare he say, a boring day and Aragorn could not have been more thankful for it. For the very thought of leaving the elf behind set in immediate stab of intense pain deep in his gut, so he preferred not to think of it. Aragorn had spent his time tending to the still elf and wracking his brain for any memories which could help with the illness, as he'd dubbed it. Legolas' movements had ceased hours ago and he now prayed only for a slight twitch of his muscles as a signal that he was still connected with the outside.

As night fell upon the Fellowship once again, so did a universally uneasy slumber. Each hour there would be no less than two pairs of eyes wandering the darkness other than the designated watcher, and one pair which remained half-lidded and scrutinizing the prince for movement.

"Your distress is palpable, son of Arathorn." The Maia sighed from his post, careful to keep himself at a low decibel. "I am empathetic. The Valar seem determined to watch me see fate overcome the ones I held in my arms as younglings."

Aragorn blinked wearily, "This is not fate." he replied softly. The wizard did not retort, but instead rose from his seat to pull the cloak further over the elf's body, covering the exposed bandages that decorated his torso.

"I fear the effect seems to be more troublesome than the cause."

The ranger's reply was sharper than he meant it to be. "Have you given up on him as well?"

Gandalf sighed, "You misunderstand; there is a difference between hope and rationality." Pondered the wizard, "In fact, hope is often defined as the absence of rationality."

The ranger sighed regretfully, "Apologies, I mean not to be so callous."

"I know, young king." Soothed the wizard, "We all carry this burden."

Aragorn nodded, silently absorbing the words as he turned back to the elf. Pale skin contrasted deeply with sunken cheeks and stark blue features. Fresh blood mixed with dry residue within his nose and eyes which Aragorn fought to keep clean. It pooled in his ears and glued pale hair to pale skin, which he was sure to hear about upon the elf's awakening. A weathered hand covered his as he wiped the elf's face, "Rest."

"My watch approaches."

"Worry not," said the old wizard with a smile, "I do not tire."

With little energy left for an argument, the ranger lay himself flat on his bedroll and eyed the stars which danced above their camp, glittering brightly with little care as to what was occurring below them. Not of war, not of disease, of famine or hatred. As slumber overtook him Aragorn supposed that if he were a star, he wouldn't care much, either.

* * *

><p><em>Countless times had he visited the homeland of his pale Elvish friend. From feasts, to holidays, to a mere rendezvous' point during hunting trips, Mirkwood was a beacon of immense hospitality and kindness to those she was familiar with. The man was far from a stranger among their kind.<em>

_Yet Aragorn had never felt so foreign._

_Not one friendly word or recognizable greeting had been uttered his way. In fact, the man barely recognized any of the faces which filled the wood. An uncomfortable silence endured as oceanic eyes followed him cautiously with every movement he made. Frequently, he felt the urge to look down at himself and ensure he was, indeed, still wearing clothes._

_The first friendly voice happened to come from the only blond head he truly recognized, striding forward with a broad smile, __"Aragorn! It is good to see you, mellon-nîn."_

_"Indeed," replied Aragorn, eyes turning to the faces which silently scorned him, "I see your kin do not think the same."_

_Legolas furrowed his brows and turned to follow the ranger's line of sight. The cold, wary gazes of Mirkwood's residents were unfaltering, even in the presence of their monarchy. The prince was appalled at this display of hostility from his friends who were normally so carefree. He hesitated for only a moment before speaking, "Bandits from Gondor have been known to stalk the wood as of late, they have merely created a stereotype of man." reasoned the elf, "I apologize on their behalf. No matter, you must be weary. Let us get you some food and-"_

_"Legolas." There came an uncharacteristically harsh bark from the balcony above them where Mirkwood's king stood, ignoring the presence of his guest, "My chambers, please."_

_Aragorn held up a silencing hand at the slightly stunned gape of his friend, "Don't worry, mellon-nîn. I will seek my own shelter for the night. I'm sure there are pressing matters for you and the King to attend to. We will speak in the morning."_

_The prince nodded hesitantly, and they turned their separate ways._

_"Why were you speaking to that Imladrian?"_

_Thin brows furrowed, "Estel, father? He merely just arrived from Rivendell and I sought to greet him. What harm comes of this?"_

_"There is only disgrace in that name, Legolas." spat the king, "You are not to speak to him again, nor the others of his false kin."_

_The younger elf's fought to contain his shock, but could not restrain the defensive tone which crept it's way into his voice. "I do not understand. Neither he nor Lord Elrond have shone us any degree of hostility to my knowledge."_

_The king shook his golden head, "Lord Elrond is naught but a traitor to his kind. He helped the dwarves, he offered them hospitality not meant for their kind. You should know, my son, you helped them as well."_

_"Adar, but I do not understand this sudden hostility." said Legolas, "Estel would have had no input on the decision. Regardless, we have seen naught of dwarves in half a century."_

_"Do not question me, elfling!" bellowed Thranduil and Legolas flinched, unused to the sheer volume emitting from the elder elf. "It is a lucky thing that I do not exile you for your involvement, if not merely your insolence. Adar or not, I remain your king and you will obey my orders!"_

_Legolas stood aghast at the seething form of his father. Once a soft spoken man who would rarely raise his voice even on the battlefield. This was not a man he __recognized, not a man he'd ever met in his life._

_What happened next was nothing any number of years could have prepared him for._

_The rage in Thranduil's expression faded as his face began to age before Legolas's very eyes, his skin shriveling and the bones of his skull becoming stark and prominent. An intense grey hue suddenly blanketed the green and golden room. Even the temperature began dropping to the point where goose bumps prickled his pale skin. Legolas let out a cry of horror and threw himself backwards as one of the king's eyes rolled easily out of its socket and landed on the floor at his feet with a sick squelching sound._

_"Do not fear, Legolas..." the weak, aged voice of the king strained. Thranduil lifted an emaciated arm to draw his son into an embrace when the limb promptly fell off of his body with the ease of a branch falling off of a rotting tree. It hit the ground with a thud and Legolas could only look on with horror as the king stared at the severed limb with something akin to bewilderment. The remaining eye rolled up to meet his, and the prince sensed only evil and apathy within the grey orb._

_It was then that one of the king's bony legs snapped beneath him, followed quickly by the other. Legolas' flinched at the sound and had to restrain the simultaneous desires to both approach and flee from the mangled form of his father which lay motionless on the floor. 'No' he thought defiantly, tearing his eyes away from the bloodied and mangled forms of his kin. 'Evil is here.'_

_As he grappled from the palace, Legolas faltered mightily at the bodies of several elflings which lie sprawled upon the steps, a few he recognized as friends of Valaina. Others lay sprawled about the roots of a nearby tree, limbs and bowls laying useless from the rest of their bodies. __A small sob escaped his lips and squeezed his eyes shut against the horrible images. Restrained sobs shook his frame violently and tears streaked his cheeks as he struggled to avert his eyes from the bloodied forms of his friends. Shuddering whispers and uncharacteristically loud footsteps were all that filled the dense, unnatural silence._

_Legolas wasn't even sure where he was running to._

* * *

><p>Aragorn could hear the elf muttering softly, and initially paid it no mind. The man assumed it to be only more of the random babbling brought by his illness. Instead of resonating at a dull hush, the volume of the gibberish grew stronger and Aragorn found he recognized some of the words. He knelt by his friend, leaning an ear in close.<p>

_"Ta anwa il..."_ he repeated softly, whirling to face the wizard.

Gandalf's lips twitched upward in a hopeful smile, "He's breaking through."

The rest of the Fellowship soon gathered at the commotion but Aragorn ignored them, silently cheering his friend on in his evident inner battle. When suddenly, the elf's muscles uncoiled and his limbs rolled limply on the ground.

Aragorn's heart pounded and his jaw went slack. Hurriedly, he pressed an ear to Legolas' chest, hoping to hear steady drumming accompanied by the labored breathing they'd become accustomed to in recent days. There were neither.

All traces of pain had vacated Legolas' now utterly peaceful face and the Ranger shook his head in denial.

_"Valar, no."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._


End file.
